


these city lights never burned so bright

by jadedbastard



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas AU, Christmas Eve, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, New York City, small amount of Angst, so much fluff you could drown in it, the other boys only appear a few times, they're still important however
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2645966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadedbastard/pseuds/jadedbastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>maybe spending christmas eve with a stranger isn't as weird as it should be. and maybe louis shouldn't feel like he's falling in love when he's only met harry a couple of hours before, but who said love made sense anyways?</p><p>or the one where louis and harry meet at 'central perk' and new york city isn't so loud after all</p>
            </blockquote>





	these city lights never burned so bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sameoldshht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sameoldshht/gifts).



> this is my first fic i'm posting which also happens to be my first ever fic exchange fic. i really just took the given prompts and combined a little bit of each of them into this giant christmas-y fic! i hope you enjoy it :) it's got a small amount of angst but it's only because i have this weird thing where i need to write angst, but it's pretty much 99.7% fluff, and a bit of cliché, feat. a horrendous edition of louis trying to bake cookies
> 
> *also it ended up longer than i first intended... merry christmas cutie! x

Louis doesn’t feel any different. He wonders if it’s the fact that turning twenty-three is less exciting that turning eighteen and finally being able to move out of the house. Hell if it wasn’t for the whole breakfast in bed, and obnoxiously singing happy birthday at four in the morning that Zayn did Louis would figure it to be another day.

It’s a Wednesday nearest to the end of December, Louis birthday happening to be on the same day as Christmas Eve, which he doesn’t mind; hasn’t minded since he was five and excitedly rushing downstairs to meet his mum because he thought everyone celebrated his birthday – really it was the holiday that had them stringing up lights and singing tunes. Since then his family usually celebrated his birthday a week in advance because they know Louis hates the hustle of New York in winter, people rushing out to do last minute Christmas shopping, pubs filled with laughter and drinking, couples skating down by the park. Louis would rather spend his day at home with Zayn, Liam, and a nice cup of tea at hand. Watching cheesy Christmas flicks on endless replay as Liam and Zayn argue over what their favorite holiday movie is.

Today Zayn is downstairs spray-painting the walls of the washroom with the windows open so that they don’t die of paint inhalation. Zayn doesn’t even spare a glance as Louis toes off his socks feeling the cool tiled floor beneath his feet as he covers his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater. There’s a shirt in the corner speckled in orange paint, and it only takes a moment to realize that it’s his shirt. The one his sisters had brought him after their trip to Ireland, it didn’t take long before Louis had worn it to faded colors.

Zayn is still focused intently on whatever it is he’s working on (Louis hadn’t bothered to ask when he walked in the night before) and it’s only when Louis is going to scold him does Zayn curse under his breath. Louis gives it a minute before Zayn is trudging through the doorway, black hair held behind a headband, golden eyes focused on whatever it is he’s heading toward. He almost doesn’t see Louis, until Louis steps out in front of him with a huge smirk on his face.

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going Malik?” Louis holds out a hand to stop Zayn from rounding the corner. He knows it’s a bit of an asshole-y move but hey, he did pick up a few bad mannerisms from his childhood and drag them out till adulthood.

Zayn glares pointedly, he holds the empty spray can in his left hand before sighing audibly knowing it’s something that pisses Louis off to no end (Louis hates when he does that). “Well if you’d get out of my way I could get another paint can so I can finish Liam’s portrait.”

“You’re painting your boyfriend again?” Louis smirks hollowing out his cheeks to make a proper fish-face at Zayn.

It’s not the first time Zayn has painted Liam’s face on canvas (as well as public property but Louis keeps that one to himself) Louis knows Zayn has his eyes on the girl that works at the record store down the street, but it doesn’t stop him from teasing him relentlessly about Liam. He knows the reason behind all the art Zayn does of Liam, Zayn had told him one night when the two of them had gotten drunk because Zayn’s boyfriend at the time had broken up with him. He had come home acting like nothing had happened until Louis had put in a movie and Zayn broke down there. Louis decided he’d get drunk too, not really caring that Zayn had classes the next morning because fuck it, Zayn needed him and he wasn’t about to let him feel shit alone.

“He’s not my boyfriend Lou.”

“But you wish he was.” Louis presses.

Zayn rolls his eyes content with no words before brushing past Louis rather aggressively. Louis decides that he should probably apologize considering Zayn did wake up early to make him breakfast in bed (if you can call warm cereal and toast a fancy breakfast).

“Zayn I’m only joking mate.” Louis says as he follows his friend out toward the door. “I just like messing with you, you know I appreciate you.” He continues, making sure to stand in front of Zayn when he opts for the door.

Zayn brushes Louis off anyways, making to open the door to leave but Louis doesn’t have any of it as he sticks his foot in the way, blocking the door with his body. Louis isn’t going to let Zayn leave without saying something to him, Louis always has been stubborn. 

Zayn sighs but Louis can see the way a smile tugs at his lips when he steps back. “I know, you’re such an ass sometimes though.” He shakes his head. “But either way I do have to finish this painting. And you know Liam and I are going to his families' today.” He frowns a bit at this.

Louis nods, knows this is how Zayn and Liam are. Their families are super close and so they always spend the holidays together. Liam and Zayn both go for an hour or so while sometimes Louis goes with them, and sometimes he doesn’t. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just he wants them to be able to visit with them without him being there to follow them around. He doesn’t mind it. Just misses them while they’re gone.

“I’ll be fine.” Louis assures him. Making sure to tack on a cheesy grin at the end for good measure. God knows how Zayn will not want to leave otherwise.

He moves ever so slightly out of the way, watching as Zayn grabs his coat off the front hangers. Louis thinks he should probably leave soon too. Especially considering it’s already almost three and he’s done nothing but eat and bug Zayn.

“Happy birthday Lou.” Zayn says. He’s standing at the door, one hand lingering against the wooden frame as he tells Louis, “call you later okay, and Liam and I will be back around six or something.” He watches Louis one last time before slipping out the door.

Louis has to remind himself that he doesn’t really care if they’re gone for his birthday, so long as they’re home on time.

 

-

 

It’s cold when Louis finally leaves the flat. Not that Louis was expecting anything less than the cold. December has always meant freezing his arse off the moment he leaves the warm the flat. Even when he’s studded out in two coats, his boots, and a scarf, he still freezes half to death, needing to pull his nose into the little crease where his jacket barely reaches at his chin.

His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he makes his way down the street, car lights dissolved into millions of crystals in front of him, a dusting of snow falling slowly toward the ground; deflecting off the edges of the bright frost covered streetlamps. They’re decorated with wreaths and red ribbons tied into bows, there’s a few stray lights flickering out into a dim yellow down a ways.

Louis always thinks New York looks the most beautiful in the winter. Mainly because when everything is covered in snow he forgets where he really is, forgets how on any other day Louis dreads walking down crowded streets ways. He’s never been big on the whole knocking into strangers and having to pretend they don’t exist. Doesn’t care much for flagging down a cab so that he can make his way home when his feet hurt.

But Louis loves the way winter makes everything disappear in a haze of beautiful lights, and overzealous decorations. Of happy people, and the smell of pumpkin spice lattes and various scented candles in shops.

When Louis finally reaches the small café, it’s warm, illuminated in soft orange light despite the sun reaching in through the windows. Louis watches as a young couple brushes their way past him mumbling a small “sorry” as they make their way out the door hand in hand. There’s a quick moment where Louis focuses on the décor of the small café – he almost feels like he’s in a movie, or television show he guesses. Central Perk is painted against the window of the coffee shop, the letters just like he remembers watching in the show. He’s filled with a quick shock of pure happiness.

Since he first heard they were bringing the small café to New York, New York Louis has been bugging Zayn day and night to come with him to visit it. And now he’s finally here, albeit Zayn isn’t, but he doesn’t mind. He knows that Liam would skin Louis alive if he knew he was the reason for Zayn missing the Christmas get-together. Louis knows how close Zayn and Liam’s families are.

There’s the sickeningly sweet smell of cinnamon that swirls around the shop, seems to encase him in warm memories of when he was younger and his mum would buy cinnamon scented candles for the holidays. How she would light them at night and sometimes Louis would stare at the small flickering flame as it danced against the dark. How he wanted to swipe his hand over it, ignite it in the same fashion as the little candle. Though he knew better.

He finally makes his way to the front, briefly glancing at the girl behind the counter. She’s rushing to fill an order, her nose scrunched up as a customer says something to her she must not agree with. He chuckles a bit to himself when the customer leaves – face beet red, mumbling incoherent words to himself mostly. The girl seems all too satisfied with herself as she grins at Louis.

“Can I help you?” She asks.

Louis doesn’t answer right away, taking a moment to stare at the menu painted above him (he’s watched the show too many times not to know what he wants, yet he still marvels at the authenticity of it all). “Just tea is all.” Louis answers.

“Stand there that long for tea then?” She rolls her eyes. Louis can’t help but to smirk, biting his tongue before he says, “I thought the customer is always right?”

She doesn’t hesitate one bit as she brings him the steaming hot cup, he can see the wisps furling around the top of the ceramic. “Not always.” She states simply. Her eyes flicking towards the register as she rings him up, half her nails painted a bright red to make her cherry red lipstick.

Louis pays her but before he can leave he hears the sharp jingle of a jar being moved. He turns only to see the girl moving a mason jar around, there’s loose change inside and a little note reading ‘college funds’. “Ahh.” Louis contemplates whether he should remark sarcastically or not. He decides on a crumpled up bill and an easy smile.

“And merry Christmas to you.” She winks before turning back to paint the remainder of her nails. Louis doesn’t answer this time as he nurses the hot cup to his lips, making sure to blow some air over the tops as to not burn his tongue.

There’s only a quick moment where Louis glances up does he see him. He’s sitting at a small table at the left side of the café, eyebrows furrowed down as he scribbles furiously on a napkin, his hair held back with a headscarf. Louis tries his best not to stare, but something about the boy is so alluring, inviting almost. He’s walking toward him, his hands warm from the cup of tea he’s holding, his jacket almost constricting. And he doesn’t know why, he just feels it deep in his gut somewhere.

The boy doesn’t notice him at first, still scribbling words onto the napkin in black ink. Louis notices the rings he has on his fingers, briefly wondering if he’s married, or even engaged to someone because how, how can he not? He’s easily one of the most gorgeous people Louis has ever seen, and here he is sitting in the middle of a F.R.I.E.N.D.S themed café and Louis almost doesn’t think he has the right to talk to him.

He does so anyways.

“Hi.” He starts cautiously watching as the boy briefly looks up. His eyes a dark green, almost grey in the shadows of the shop.

“Hi.” He answers, his voice is deep, a sleepy kind of slow. Louis can’t help but to watch the way his lips moves when he asks, “do you need something?” He looks thoroughly confused for a moment, like maybe he’s done something wrong.

“I was just wondering if I could sit here. I mean there’s not that many seats in here to begin with.” Louis watches as the boy’s eyes light up before he stuffs the napkin into the pocket of his jacket. He quickly reaches out with long fingers to move his bag around so Louis has a place to sit. Inviting him with a quick momentary gesture of his hands.

“Yeah, I mean I’m not gonna say no, that’s kinda uh like,” the boy stutters a little, his pink lips pouting a bit when he stumbles onto the words he’s saying. “Rude.” He breathes out.

Louis grins at him, he’s really pretty. Dark curls tucked away against his neck, intense almost, birthmarks scattered against light skin. He notices the way the boy fixes the headscarf he’s wearing, adjusting it so that the stray strands of hair are pushed back beneath it.

There’s silence for a moment, Louis taking a sip of his tea as the other boy clicks his pen absentmindedly. He has a glass of water on one side, and a pastry on a tiny dish on the other. Louis almost forgets to introduce himself before he realizes how stupid he probably looks sitting at a stranger’s table without even saying more than a few measly words.

“M’ Louis Tomlinson.” He mumbles out between a gulp of hot tea.

“Harry Styles.” The boy states proudly. He’s grinning from ear to ear. Louis can clearly see the dimples that peek out from the corners of his mouth.

Harry looks out the window briefly, Louis can see the way his eyes flicker over the edges of people’s figures as they pass by. Notices the way the sun is turning quickly from daylight into a warm evening glow. Louis has always liked evening, it’s peaceful. Perfect time for him to sit back and relax, to think about nothing and everything at the same time.

Louis locks eyes with Harry once he turns back around. “So what brings you to Central Perk Louis?” He asks, his attention intently fixed on Louis, as if anything he will say is something to write on that little napkin of his.

“Tea.” Louis explains bringing the cup up towards Harry. “Actually,” Louis hesitates wondering if he’ll sound stupid to tell Harry the real reason. “I’m actually a movie producer.” He lies, smirking mischievously. “And you’re going to be the next big thing.” He tells Harry straight, matter-of-fact.

“Oh really.” Harry laughs.

Louis nods not once taking his attention off the steam rising off the top of the cup.

“What movie?” Harry questions. He’s raising his eyebrow pointedly, and a stupid lopsided grin is tugging at the edge of his lips.

Louis tries to think of anything, something that he can say. Instead he opts for the truth, “Okay you caught me. I actually just really like the show friends.” He shrugs leaning side against the glass, watching as Harry pretends to contemplate the new information he’s just learned.

“Funnily enough I do too.” He smiles.

Louis doesn’t say much else at first. Just takes another long sip of his tea – feels the way it burns the back of his throat but warms him through. Harry just watches him, outlining Louis’ face with his gaze, if it wasn’t for Harry’s dorky grin Louis would almost feel uncomfortable. Just the fact Harry is so intense makes Louis’ stomach do somersaults, feels like little knots sitting stagnant there.

“Besides our apparent mutual love of this show, what are you doing out on a day like such.” Louis motions toward the window where small flecks of snow have begun falling from grey clouds.

“The aesthetic mostly.” Harry comments.

“So you’re big on appearance then?” Louis jokes. He’s just finished off his cup of tea, so now he doesn’t have a failsafe for when he doesn’t know what to say. 

Harry pauses, blinking slowly, eyes doe-like and Louis can’t help but to stare. “Something like that.” He smiles, obviously fond of the way Louis can’t keep control over himself. 

Honestly fuck, because Louis has always worked off of impulse, quick thinking and even quicker actions. He’s glad Zayn couldn’t come. Zayn would find a way to embarrass Louis, knows he would comment on the way Louis drops his gaze toward the ground and smirks to himself like a child caught stealing the last cookie out the jar. Knows Louis better than the back of his own hand, so this is good. Louis thinks he’s making quite impressive progress with this boy, he’s even managed to make him laugh a couple of times – that of all things, must count for something.

“And you?” Harry looks mildly confused when Louis doesn’t respond right away.

Then again Louis wasn’t listening in the moment. He masquerades behind his impulses and wit, when honestly he feels the embarrassment unfolding before him in the instant. “What?”

Harry doesn’t seem fazed, he merely smiles, all confusion dropped from his expression so he can repeat the question. “What are you doing? I mean it is Christmas Eve and all.” He waits a moment before realization creeps its way on his face, “I mean not trying to be intrusive, just naturally curious about the situation.”

“Harry.”

“Yeah?”

Louis can’t help the smile that overcomes his features, “chill.”

“Yeah. Yeah of course.” Harry laughs sort of strained, his dimple more prominent on the left side of his cheek.

“Having a cup of tea s’all. I mean I don’t think I need a special reasoning for it.” He shrugs, making sure to emphasize on the fact that he doesn’t need a reason – hell he can do whatever he wants he’s twenty-three.

Harry nods along. Pulling the outsides of his sleeves to cover the tops of his knuckles. Louis briefly catches a glimpse of a cross inked into the skin of his hand. He doesn’t mention it however, maybe it’s too early on in this short meeting to even be talking to him how he is. They’ve never met before but Louis can’t help but feel a vague sense of warmth and familiarity when he’s around Harry. Almost feels like he’s known him longer than fifteen minutes. (Not that Louis’ counting or anything.)

There’s the faint jingle of a bell as another person enters the café. Their boots clacking against the hardwood flooring, an icy chill sweeping through the tiny shop as Harry shrugs his shoulders forward, Louis taking note of his quite horrendous posture. Louis figures he’s not much better, more often than not he finds himself slouching to the point he could completely lay his head against the table. Still he keeps the information stored away at the back of his mind, memorizing every little detail about the boy in front of him.

“Do you go to uni?” Harry asks, mouth full of sickeningly sweet pastry.

Louis hesitates with a, “yeah.” 

“Nice. Me too, I mean I go to NYU it’s pretty big so I don’t think I would’ve seen you around.” Harry is bouncing between words, his hands intertwined on the table top.

“I don’t really go to NYU, just a smaller campus.” Louis lies, doesn’t know why he does it. He hopes to drop the conversation after that but Harry looks excited to be talking about it so he lets on. “What do you study?”

“Right now I’m looking into different programs. At the moment I’m in Psychology. Don’t think it’s my best subject honestly.” He frowns a bit, not as serious, but he still frowns. “My friend Niall, he studies like architecture and I tried that but didn’t really work out.”

“Well don’t get down about it.” Louis rolls his eyes, doesn’t mean to but can’t help it. “I mean not everyone is good at everything. Unless you’re Zayn, um, my roommate. He can somehow not care about something while also being very good at it.” Louis snorts a little when he thinks about it.

Harry seems to get a little laugh about it too, though Louis knows Harry has no idea how serious he’s being.

“Okay but Niall literally came to my room one night drunk enough that he thought I was his sister.” Harry elaborates slowly on each syllable, making sure never to drop the grin off his face. “The funniest part though is he doesn’t even have a sister.”

Louis can’t help but to smile when Harry starts into a fit of laughter, to which Louis joins in with. He knows people are glaring, because they’re making enough noise to cause the girl Louis met earlier to approach them – her nails all painted red now – she doesn’t look annoyed rather like she wishes she could go home.

“Hey when you two boys are done flirting I’d be nice if you could be a bit quieter. God knows the customers here will complain about anything.” She mumbles.

Harry’s grinning from ear to ear when she takes his plate from him, her eyes locked solely on Harry’s making Louis question if she knows him, and vice-versa. Louis doesn’t argue with her, but he can tell she really doesn’t care either way. She pauses a moment before leaving however, her dark brown hair pinned up in a bun, “Would you guys like more drinks or something? Gets kind of slow around here midevening.” 

Louis looks to Harry instinctually, he doesn’t even know why, he just does. “I’ll take another tea to go actually.” Louis pipes in once Harry has decidedly passed with a shake of his head.

“Alright, I’ll ring it up and just bring it to you.” She takes one more final glance at the two of them before she pivots on the heel of her shoe to make Louis’ drink.

Louis settles back into the seat, watching as Harry pulls out a little worn journal from his bag. He doesn’t comment on the obvious scribbled words on the top, assumes there’s probably some things better left to the silence. Harry jots something down into the margins of the blank page. When he looks up Louis is startled into quickly looking away, his expression unchanged when Harry smirks back at him.

They don’t talk while Harry continues to write in that little space he’s begun filling with unreadable handwriting. Louis keeps his attention fixated on the loops and curves of his letters as he drags pen across the page, obvious indents to where he’s exerted more pressure to certain words than others. It’s only a few moments later that the girl returns with Louis’ drink, styrofoam keeping most of the heat contained.

“What are you writing?” Louis asks more out of curiosity than anything. He figures it’s not too rude of a question, but he still asks it cautiously.

Harry only peeks up through his lashes, his eyes saturated in golden light. “Nothing much. I write a lot s’all.”

“You’re a writer then?”

Harry laughs a little, concentrated happiness enveloping Louis when he sees just how bright Harry is. “Something like that.” He answers.

They talk a little about New York. How much Harry enjoys snow and all things glistening beneath a blanket of pure white. How Harry had taken a class to learn how to ski but never did quite retain the information he was supposed to. Louis in turn listens to everything and anything Harry has to say about it. Listens silently on as Harry explains to him how much he loves the winter, how he loves the feel of New York when he’s bundled up in a coat and scarf – boots crunching against snow covered sidewalks.

Louis eventually finishes his second cup of tea before long. The sun retreating earlier than usual, and Louis realizes he’s been sitting in the café for nearly two hours now. He briefly wonders what Zayn and Liam are doing, if they’re sitting down talking to their family about what they’ve been up to recently, and for once Louis is glad he didn’t go. Because if he would have, he wouldn’t have met Harry.

“Tea then?” Harry says, he’d taken the scarf out of his hair a while ago. His curls loosely framing his face, looping and long, Louis likes the look on him. Though he keeps it to himself.

“Yeah.”

“Sugar?”

“Nah, you’re sweet enough.” Louis laughs, trying to cover what he’d just said.

Harry’s smile only grows as he stands up, taking the little napkin with him as he walks up to the counter to order a tea for Louis. Its five thirty, and Louis know Zayn and Liam will be home soon. He wonders if maybe they’ll stay late so Louis will have an excuse to stay and continue talking with Harry, he doesn’t even mind the horrible jokes Harry told him because for some reason they’re still kind of funny.

“One tea.” Harry announces once he’s back. He places it down in front of Louis making sure to survey the way Louis reacts to it.

Louis nods graciously at him. They stay silent for a while before Louis’ phone is buzzing letting him know he has a new text message. He doesn’t even need to look to know its Zayn telling him that he and Liam will be home soon. He must make some forlorn expression because a moment later Harry is mimicking him with a slight overcast expression. Louis feels bad, doesn’t want to feel this way, but he does.

He types a quick reply to Zayn telling him he’ll be home soon. When he looks back up Harry is staring at him, jawline more defined against the darkening sky outside, the lights of the shop casting a soft pale white glow onto his skin. He looks surreal, and Louis knows he’s fucked. Knows he’s fucked because Zayn has always told him he latches on to people so easily. Louis hates Zayn for being right.

“I need to go.” Louis mumbles out.

“Oh.” Harry replies.

_Oh._

“Maybe I’ll—“Louis starts.

“See you around?” Harry finishes.

“Yeah. See you around.”

Louis sits there for a moment, the cup of tea held between his hands. Outside is relatively dark, a side-effect of the change in weather and late of the year. Harry doesn’t move either, his drink sitting untouched in front of him. Louis notices the way Harry plays with the ring on his finger – absentmindedly twisting it around, fingers pulling it up and off and back on again. A habit he must have, Louis can’t help but to watch him do this, eyes seemingly glued on the all too fluid motions of Harry’s fingers.

Finally he stands up, Harry’s attention immediately fixated on him. Louis doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Harry a moment longer before making his way toward the front door. He hesitates briefly, wondering if he should turn around, but fuck he doesn’t know if he’d be able to because either Harry will be watching him, or Harry won’t; either one would be bad on Louis’ behalf. Instead he shrugs his jacket tighter around his torso, making sure to pull the tip of his nose into the hemline on his jacket, shielding himself from the icy bite of the cold December breeze.

He makes it about seven steps before he’s stopping a few feet shy of the bend of the sidewalk. He’s huffing out in annoyance to himself mainly because why does he have to get so caught up by a boy he just met. He doesn’t even know if he’s into guys for god sakes but here he is stopped in the middle of the fucking sidewalk while it’s snowing and he can’t help but to wonder how many lifetimes it’d take before he’d meet someone like Harry.

With one last look at the end of the street he takes it a couple steps back to peer into the window of the shop. Of course Harry isn’t sitting there anymore, must have gotten up to leave a minute following Louis. Instead there is that dumb napkin sitting there on the tabletop and Louis knows he’s screwed because he wants to find Harry. He knows Harry didn’t walk far, Louis didn’t even walk that far and he left at least five minutes ago.

He brushes past a few people back to where the entrance to the café is. There’s no curly-haired boy standing around so he really must have walked off, sure enough Louis can see him retreating a ways away, one hand in his jacket pocket and the other wrapped around his drink. Louis tries his best not to think about all the ways this can go wrong, because there are always negatives and curse Louis for his pessimistic ideals when it comes to dating and all things romantic (though he is quite the romantic).

“Harry!” Louis calls after him.

Harry stops turning around almost immediately, his breaths coming out in little puffs as he waits for Louis to catch up. “Louis?” He looks about as confused as Louis is feeling at the moment.

“Hey, I uh, change of plans. Are you doing anything?” Louis asks. He’s talking rather quickly which is something he does when he gets worked up.

Harry furrows his eyebrows, keeping a steady gaze on Louis. “Depends.” He says.

“On what?”

“On what you’re going to ask me.” 

Louis rolls his eyes as Harry brings his hands to brush away hair that’s falling in his face. And Louis shouldn’t find it as endearing at he does but sue him he’s never been good at hiding how he feels. “Would you like to hang out? Like now I mean. Like walk around New York, maybe check out a few shops?” Louis cringes at the way he sounds so unsure of himself. He hopes Harry doesn’t catch on.

“Uh, yeah. Of course, sounds great.” Harry beams. “What do you say we do first then?”

Louis almost breathes out a sigh of relief as he starts to walk ahead, making sure that Harry is following him. “Well Curly.” He tests out the nickname, watches as Harry continues to follow along next to Louis, a hint of a smile on his face. “The one good thing to come out of living in New York so long is knowing places to go.”

“So you’re like my tour guide? I live here too you know.” Harry pipes up.

“Okay so you’ve lived here but you don’t have two completely not-in-love, in-love best friends so.” He pauses, “I’ll be your tour guide tonight.”

“What do they have to do with anything?” Harry asks. Louis tries not to stare at the way Harry scrunches up his nose in clear confusion.

“Well dear Harold I actually have no idea. But they always take me to these artsy shows so I figured that’s something we could do.”

“Louis its freezing out you really want to stand around?” Harry laughs low against the biting cold. Louis can’t be arsed by how stupid he probably sounded bringing up the idea. All he can think about is the way Harry’s lips move when he articulates each word.

“Er, of course.” Louis mutters. He feels a bit flustered by the fact that Harry knocks into him lightly against the shoulder.

Harry slows his pace a little when they reach the edge of the sidewalk, the lights on the other side suddenly lighting up the walkway in fluorescent blue. Louis nuzzles himself in closer to his jacket. Harry must notice because suddenly he’s eyeing Louis intently, dark green flitting across Louis’ entire face. Louis can feel every inch of his body prickling with fire, he knows he’s blushing – hell Harry fucking knows he’s blushing by the way his entire being lights up like a fucking Christmas tree. Louis tries his best to play it cool, but Harry is all but switched back into being super intense, and like honestly Louis wonders what he’s doing.

“We should get you somewhere warm.” Harry declares, breaking the silence. He follows it with a, “can’t have you freezing to death on me.”

“Yeah. Dunno how much longer I can take before I turn into ice.”

“Come on then.” Harry says. He takes Louis by the hand for a moment, just sort of lingering there hesitantly. Louis lets him of course, but he can’t help but to feel like this could end oh so badly. Louis is too willing to give his attention away, and he sure doesn’t want to doubt Harry. But he doesn’t want to give in so easily. It’s hard though, when Harry is this pretty. 

Louis follows steadily behind Harry as they make quick turns down a couple streets, his hand moving to Louis’ waist to lead him along. Even with three layers of clothing Louis can feel the burning sensation beneath Harry’s touch. He wants to lean into Harry, to see what it’d be like. To see if he’d ignite into a million bustling sparks into the night sky. Instead he comes to a stop when Harry does all too suddenly. His breathing easily seen in the icy air between them.

There’s about two minutes into Louis staring dead-blank ahead before he registers what he’s looking at. “It’s a tree.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so how is this going to help warm me up?”

Harry doesn’t answer right away, just keeps marveling up at the expanse of trees in front of them – particularly the one odd tree that’s in front of them. There’s a few strings of alternating colors of red and green Christmas lights hung on the branches. “Thought it’d be romantic so you’d suddenly warm up.” Harry mumbles under his breath. Louis hears him loud and clear however, only making the warmth spread throughout his cheeks and down toward his neck.

“Fuck you’re so sappy.” Louis half-laughs, and half-chokes out because honestly. Who is Harry even?

Harry breathes out long and deep, just a bit dramatic even for Louis (who had done drama for quite a few years of his life). “If it’s too weird like, I know we just met and all and I just—“Harry is running on and on, his words muddling together into incoherent sounds as Louis watches on with a small quirk to his lips.

“Haz.”

Harry startles a bit, just stops midsentence to look at Louis. His cheeks are tinted rosy red, even the tip of his nose is pink from the cold evening that spans out against them. “Yeah?”

“You’re fine okay?”  
Harry nods slow, like everything else he does. “Yeah.” He clears his throat, “Yeah.” He repeats.

“Now can we please for the love of god find somewhere warm before we both freeze under this tree? I don’t fancy to be found by a couple of love-sick teenagers wanting to fuck in the woods to be honest.” He chuckles.

Harry’s features soften at that, his mouth upturned into an immediate grin that’s too bright for such a bitterly dark night. “Alright.” He finally says.

_Alright._

 

-

 

Harry, as it turns out is an amazing singer. Like, better than amazing but Louis never was good at literature, or English or any of that whole linguistics deal so he can’t put into words how amazing Harry is. He just knows that Harry’s voice is like summer days spent lazing around, or vintage records in a record store. Harry can sing, and Louis knows this, and the world should know this, but Harry himself doesn’t know this.

They spent the last hour or so walking around New York. Down the city streets holding their jackets as close to their bodies as possible. There’s a lot of people out walking around, a decent crowd making their way to do last minute shopping or to just simply wander around like they’re doing. Going into shops and checking out what kinds of things are being sold, what’s popular, and joking about the lingerie they’re going to buy for each other.

Harry told Louis about how he was in a band when he was younger with a few of his friends. How he was lead vocalist and they would book tiny gigs down at the local pubs and diners. Louis prompted him to sing something, only for Harry to dejectedly tell him how much he sucks and that they were just kids, and he pretended it was good when really he was terrible. How it was all for pretend. Louis clearly doubts as much.

It isn’t until they round a bend with Harry in tow does Louis hear him singing softly to whatever Christmas carol a few street musicians are singing to. His voice is deep (like what else did Louis expect) and Louis had turned a bit to look at Harry, which, Harry didn’t realize, so he runs straight into Louis with a soft “ _oof._ ” 

“What’ve I done?” Harry asks because Louis for the life of him cannot stop gaping at Harry.

He smirks devilishly however, wanting to take the piss out of Harry. “Oh nothing.” He claims.

“Louis.” Harry strains every syllable of his name.

Louis of course doesn’t reply and keeps walking on down the sidewalk. He knows the moment he turns to face Harry the gig is up because he’s shit at hiding his emotions. Probably was the reason he quit drama classes for one.

“Louis m’serious.” Harry drawls out.

“So am I love.”

Harry huffs rather audibly as he paces Louis perfectly in speed, even their strides match up with one another. Louis keeps in mind that it’s late and Zayn has texted him at least four times in the last hour demanding to know who the mystery boy is that Louis has been wandering the streets of New York with. Louis hasn’t answered much, and when he has it’s been vague and very non-descriptive. Simple sentences and enough information to get Zayn off his back, but not enough to give him away.

Louis knows as soon as he gets home Zayn is going to run him up the roof about being responsible and not scaring the shit out of him. Liam will probably scold him while simultaneously trying to calm Zayn down. It’s all in retrospect but this isn’t the first time Louis hasn’t told them where he’s at, and more so who he’s with. He already knows exactly what they’re going to do, even before they do it.

They continue walking, Louis following Harry at a probably closer-than-need-be distance but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. Their shoulders bump a few times when they pass a couple last minute shoppers who are probably running to get home. Louis watches them rush by, not necessarily running, but still hurrying with purpose and a destination. Louis remembers feeling like that at times, especially when it came to university.

“Hey Lou.” Harry breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. Louis smiles inhumanely bright at the nickname. “Who is Zayn?”

Louis can’t help but to feel endeared by the look on Harry’s face. The way he looks completely curious as well as a bit shy. “Zayn’s my flat mate. Also my best friend I guess, he’s a wanker though.” Louis can almost hear Zayn telling him that he’s not much better.

Harry hums in contempt, like that’s all he wanted to know. And Louis doesn’t press on exactly why, just leaves it to be lost to the silence. “Uh, you mentioned about Niall earlier.” Louis brings up, he doesn’t know why he does it, figures maybe to find out more about Harry. Maybe because while they were looking through lingerie earlier Harry had mentioned Niall more than once. Louis tries to tell himself it’s not out of jealousy.

“He’s a pain, but he’s also the only one that’s stuck with me.” Harry laughs a bit nervously. “I mean like when I kept changing my major, and stuff.” Harry shrugs a little. “M’pretty indecisive.”

“Don’t worry too much yeah?”

“Yeah. Plus there’s this great study abroad program I’m trying to get into.” Harry pipes up. His smile suddenly that much brighter. “M’hoping to go.”

Louis nods a bit at that and he wonders what it’d be like to travel somewhere else. To dedicate himself to studying something he loves. “That sounds amazing honestly. Where would you go to study?”

“London.” Harry smiles. “I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Well good luck with that then yeah?” Louis nudges Harry a little.

“Thanks.”

It starts to snow by the time they reach a park, large snowflakes landing atop their heads. Louis of course, forgot his beanie on the table at home. He wonders if Zayn is having a fit about that too – knows how Zayn doesn’t let Louis out of the house unless he’s well dressed for whatever weather it is.

There’s quite a lot of people out and about considering the weather, wandering around the park with scarves of all colors and designs wrapped around. The ice rink is open, of course, there’s a lot of couples holding hands skating across the smooth surface of ice. Louis has always thought it’s the craziest thing because why would you want to freeze while going in circles on a block of ice. He doesn’t see the appeal of it, never has. Even when his sisters used to drag him out to skate the first day of snow, even then he despised it, he only complied because he never could say no with them pouting at him like they did.

Louis kicks at the snow a bit as they wander in whichever direction Harry is currently walking in. And the thing is Harry is leaning in close to Louis, their shoulders practically bumping with every step they take. Louis doesn’t mind, keeps telling himself that this is only friendly. That Louis shouldn’t concern himself when Harry hasn’t stated anything about his sexuality. Louis isn’t going to rule him out however – just decides it’s best to keep him in subspace until he mentions it. It’s difficult to however, especially when Harry’s face is flushed a soft pink tinge, like blooming roses in a garden. He can’t help but to glance at Harry when he’s not looking. 

Louis clears his throat a little when he notices the way Harry’s hand is now brushing against his. “So tell me about you Harold.” There’s a little bench off a ways, wood painted over in a layer of chipping colour. Harry leads Louis over, his hands still only centimeters away from Louis’.

“What about me?” Harry asks. He’s smiling though, genuine and innocent. Louis notices the way that his hair is falling in his face. Harry doesn’t do much besides gently shake a few strands out of the way, somehow they fall effortlessly into place.

“Anything.” Louis decides, “I want to know you.” He wants to know everything about Harry, down to his favorite fucking ice cream flavor. He doesn’t care what the topic, just wants to sit and listen to Harry talk on for days, voice low, the way he drags each sound on yet makes it sound better than anything Louis has ever heard before.

Harry leans into Louis, his hands gently brushing his own, Louis has to keep himself focused when Harry smirks down at him. Clearly Harry has an idea on what effect he has on Louis. “I can cook for one.” Harry starts. It’s simple enough but soon it leads into a hundred different branches of Harry losing track of his original topic.

Harry talks about his sister, Gemma. How she lives in the UK and how he misses her a lot, even if they bug each other relentlessly. How they’re always trying to one-up the other, whether it be stupid things like who knows the most words in another language (apparently Harry knows quite a bit of French, Louis tries not to swoon) to who gets the best gift for their mother on her birthday. Harry talks about her furiously, but it ends with him saying that he really does miss her, and that she’s always there for him no matter what. 

This in turn leads to Louis thinking about his own sisters. How they’re doing, he hasn’t heard from them in a while. Louis always tends to keep in contact but with the whole fiasco with trying to find a suitable job – Louis has been quite busy. He doesn’t bring this up however, just thinks past it, making sure to listen to everything that Harry talks about. Even when Harry is talking about how he had a cat who he used to walk on a leash (and honestly, that’s really something else) Louis can’t help but to drink in everything Harry says. He tries his best to commit it to memory, all the little things Harry says.

He’s fucked and he knows it.

Eventually Harry starts to bring the conversation around to Louis. Asking simple questions that get Louis to talk as well. Louis knows this tactic. Liam uses it on him all the time, deterring the topic around to leave an open end for Louis to talk, but instead of being annoyed he answers Harry as honestly as he can. Taking every expression Harry makes and memorizing them. The way he looks when he’s confused, how he sounds when he’s happy, the expression he makes when he’s mesmerized. 

There’s this one moment, between Louis explaining Zayn’s graffiti art to him talking about art in general, does Louis notice Harry acting weird. At first its subtle enough Louis wonders if he’s imagined it, just a tiny prick of difference that he picks up on. He ignores it but there’s suddenly a different atmosphere when Harry’s shoulders go rigid and he’s shivering a bit and then he’s in a coughing fit. Harry’s trying to catch his breath between choked coughs and deep breaths.

Louis quickly shifts closer to Harry, trying his best not to freak out too much. He knows what this is. His sisters have had asthma attacks before, Louis definitely knows how to deal with this, yet for some reason it feels completely foreign. He calms down first, within a matter of seconds he’s trying to figure out where Harry keeps his inhaler. He knows that Harry needs to take it before the attack worsens. 

Harry is still coughing and now he’s wheezing and Louis is desperately trying not to freak out. He’s keeping it together as best he can, rubbing his hand against Harry’s back in a soothing manner. He knows this doesn’t do much, but keeping Harry comfortable is the best he can do. He finds the inhaler after Harry struggles to pull it out of his own jacket pocket. Louis hands it to him and watches as Harry takes it, slowing his breathing to a normal pace. His hands a little shaky when he lowers them into his lap.

“Fuck are you okay?” Louis asks a little less calm then he’d like, his heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of his chest.

Harry inhales deeply, his shoulder’s relaxing. “Yeah, that was scary.” He breathes out long and slow. “I just.” He doesn’t even continue and Louis briefly wonders if Harry feels embarrassed. He notices the way Harry won’t meet his eyes when he looks back up.

“You’re okay though?” Louis asks again for reassurance.

“Yeah I think so.”

Louis nods, keeps nodding until he can feel his heartbeat slowing to a regular pace. “You’re okay.” He assures himself. “Fuck you scared me.” Louis sighs after a moment of silence. It’s only then that he realizes he’s basically straddling Harry on a bench in the middle of a park. Didn’t even notice in the heat of the moment but there he is in the middle of the park straddling Harry.

He blushes furiously before cursing to himself as he slides back over to where he had been sitting before the incident. Harry’s cheeks blossom a deep red as he clears his throat a little, adjusting the headscarf he’s wearing. Louis can’t help but to laugh to himself a little when he notices how flustered he’s made Harry. 

“Don’t scare me like that again okay?” Louis says after Harry has relaxed again.

“I’ll try not to.”

Louis smiles at that. Making sure to lightly punch Harry on the arm for it. He can’t help himself, just goes along with it and then he can’t stop fucking beaming when Harry’s dimples appear against his cheeks. Louis can consider himself thoroughly fucked because he thinks Harry should be illegal. The nerve, trying to make Louis fall for him and shit. They literally just met and Louis can’t stand the thought of leaving Harry when he inevitably has to go home for the night. He briefly wonders if this will be one of many short encounters, if he’ll wake up a month from now and remember Harry. He thinks even then he’ll remember Harry, even then when he’s waking up to a different colored sky he’ll still remember Harry.

Right now however, Louis just keeps his attention fixated on Harry. It’s all Harry, and him, and the bright fluorescent lights of New York. A bench, a few hundred billions of stars, and of course the icy chill of December seeping in through layers of clothing. When Louis looks up, Harry is looking at him his expression relaxed, yet he still has that same stupid intense look he always sports. Louis doesn’t comment on it, just forces himself to look down at his boots.

“Do you want hot chocolate?” Louis remembers seeing a vendor a little ways back. He supposes it’s a good idea considering Harry almost died (okay not quite but it felt like it) and the fact that the temperature is literally dropping by the hour. Soon they’ll both be ice blocks.

“Yeah, sounds nice.” Harry agrees. And there he goes again, smiling so deep Louis can see the hollows of his cheeks, the depths of his dimples protruding significantly against the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s go then Curly.” Louis announces. He stands up to stretch out a bit. Harry follows in suit, making sure to watch Louis at every second he does so. Harry keeps making a face at Louis as they track footprints into freshly fallen snow. “Stop staring at me.” Louis shakes his head just enough to hide the trace of a smile.

“Curly? Really?” Harry laughs in retaliation.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Just shut up and come with me will ya? I’m buying you hot chocolate what more do you want from me?”

Harry shrugs but Louis can still see the way he’s eyeing Louis as they make their way back. Louis almost wants to point out that Harry’s not very subtle but he leaves it at that. Truth of the matter is he kind of likes that Harry maybe possibly likes him too.

They purchase two hot chocolates from the vender who promptly eye-fucks Harry the entire time to Louis’ upmost dismay. Louis wryly jokes with the vendor but he makes sure to express his disdain at him, before he leaves the poor kid with his mouth downturned in a sour grimace. Louis isn’t friendly needless to say. Harry must notice because he moves even closer to Louis, arm brushing against Louis’. Louis can practically feel his heart in his throat and exclaims a silent victory because Harry is pretty as fuck and Harry is Louis’ date. Kind-of-date. Okay it’s not established but if Harry doesn’t stop sending him mixed signals he’s probably going to combust at any given moment.

It’s not until they’re out of sight does Harry slip his hand into Louis’. It’s so natural and relaxed that Louis instantly reacts to it. They interlock their fingers, Louis realizing how warm Harry is when he presses against his side. He tries not to look at Harry for a moment, makes sure to stare at the constant left, right, left of their steps as they walk in sync. They don’t say anything about it, but Louis is bursting with happiness he can’t stop it from showing on his face. He’s been told he’s shit at hiding his emotions. It’s all so confusing but amazing at the same time, his heart pounding in his chest. He wonders if Harry feels the same, if he’s just as nervous and excited as Louis is.

“I wanna show you something.” Louis says after they make it back onto the street walk.

“What?”

“Just come on.” Louis explains as vaguely as possible. He rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile that has taken over every inch of his being. He feels like maybe he is a bunch of sparks being ignited and Harry is the flame. All in all he keeps Harry’s hand in his. The smile never once leaving his face.

 

-

 

The thing is Louis doesn’t even really imagine spending the night wandering streets with anyone other than Harry. He can’t picture himself with even Zayn walking down and spending the dwindling hours and dulling skyline talking about the dumbest things. Harry could probably talk Louis to his grave and even then Louis would still be listening.

When Louis takes Harry to see what he does, Harry sort of just hesitates. Louis doesn’t actually go to uni as much as he originally claimed, and he definitely doesn’t work. He takes Harry into a shopping district, the wide open floor leaves enough room for quite a few musicians to sing along to original music, or Christmas carols. They pass each one with a bright smile, Louis even recognizes a few of them as friends of his, people he’s come to know through him singing.

“This is how you make money then?” Harry asks. He looks delighted even when Louis himself is feeling less-so.

“Yeah.” And he ends the conversation there.

It’s not more than a few minutes later do they end up gathering a small crowd by singing a few tunes for fun. They sing a couple songs and Harry absolutely glows on the small set stage they stand on (even if that stage is really just an overcrowded shopping district and one too many wandering shoppers).

There’s a small gathering of people around the two: their hands held together tightly knit, fingers intertwined, and standing as closely as humanly possible. Louis can feel his heart pounding with every intake of breath and quick glance of the crowd. A few people are still grinning at them, their smiles contagious as Louis feels his lips tugging at the corners. And then there’s Harry next to him, his jaw slack and eyes glossed over with excitement. Louis almost wants to pull him in, to feel every inch of Harry that he possibly can.

Louis pulls Harry in close, wrapping his arms around the taller boys’ waist, feels the warmth radiate off his body as Harry grins back down at him. His hair is all over the place, long and flowery against the soft chilled breeze. Harry is like gravity, and Louis is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, like Harry is the fucking sun and Louis doesn’t know what he’s come to. He feels the adrenaline rush, the few people around them finally melting into the larger crowd of people. Washing away with the current as Harry and Louis continue to stand where they are unmoving.

“It’s like I’m living in a fucking romance movie.” Louis laughs making sure to shove a bit of his weight in Harry’s general direction.

Harry doesn’t do much to retaliate other than to continue staring down at Louis with that huge grin permanently stuck there. “You never told me you were a street performer.” Harry pouts.

“It’s because I call myself a musician.” Louis corrects. He doesn’t mean for Harry to take it seriously but he can’t help but to feel overjoyed.

“You’re pretentious.”

“Well you sang with me you asshole.”

Harry pretends not to hear Louis as he hurriedly walks toward the exit of the building. Louis can see the snow starting to fall from where he is and he can’t help but to feel a tinge of disappointment that it’s too cold to wander around much. He figures he could come up with something to get Harry to stick with him a while longer. He doesn’t want Harry to leave just yet.

“Harold.” He sing-songs making sure to pull the best pout he can. “Harreeehh.”

Harry twirls on the balls of his feet coming face-to-face with Louis. “Yea?” His hair is pulled back behind the bandana again and so help Louis before he rips the damn thing off. It’s so endearing in a way Louis doesn’t know how to properly explain to express.

“Was wondering if you’d wanna like hang out some more?” He suddenly feels nervous, like maybe he’s been assuming everything and making it seem like what it really isn’t. The thought sure has him second guessing. 

Harry’s face lights up however, his teeth on full display. “Sounds great where to next?” He winks.

“Fuck off.” Louis sighs exasperated. Harry will definitely be the death of him. “I dunno what do you wanna do?”

He watches as Harry runs his tongue over the top of his lips wetting them. “Movie night?”

“I don’t know what movies are even—“ Louis doesn’t have a chance to finish when Harry stops him mid-sentence, pretty pink lips upturned into a knowing smile. Louis can feel his whole body burning suddenly. “Oh. Yeah.”

Louis texts Zayn a few minutes later telling him and Liam to get out of the house.

 

-

 

Louis’ flat (surprisingly) is empty by the time they get there. Louis’ keys jingle from where they’re hung on his lanyard as he closes the door behind them. He made sure to warn Harry twenty times before they got to the flat not to freak out, Harry didn’t seem to understand what he meant until they walk in. 

“Shit Louis.” Is all he says after an extensive amount of time he spends staring at the same three faux-potted plants in the doorway. Louis almost wants to walk out and call Zayn to pick him up he feels so, awkward. Which is a first considering Harry is one of the easiest people to talk with.

“Yeah.” He replies like that’s the only thing he knows how to say. _Yeah_. He’s not used to extra company aside from Liam and the occasional dates Zayn and he himself bring around. It’s all so new and exciting but makes him feel completely weird inside. 

After a chorus of Harry mumbling _shit_ to himself while pointing at various items around Louis’ apartment, they settle down against the couch. Two cups of hot chocolate sitting on the coffee table in front of them, the television the only source of light. Harry is sitting with his legs crossed over top of Louis’, they’re long and seemingly endless compared to how short Louis’ are in comparison. They’re not that much different in height, yet Harry’s legs make the biggest difference that seems to enhance said height difference. Louis doesn’t mind being shorter anyways, never has minded much about his height.

“So how’d you end up with all this?” Harry whispers just a little louder than the low static of the television. He waves in the general direction of the apartment to which Louis follows with his eyes.

“My dad bought it for me. It was too big so I sort of asked Zayn if he wanted to stay with me.” He tries to conceal the way everything suddenly feels tense with a short laugh. “We split the bills basically.”

Harry doesn’t say much at first, just sort of sits back and takes it all in. His eyes flit across the room as Louis stretches out his legs as much as he can. “Where’s your dad now?”

Louis jumps up at that, Harry’s legs instantly hitting the ground with a soft thud. His toes barely missing the edge of the glass coffee table by a mere few inches. Harry looks startled and Louis feels a pang of guilt flourish when he abruptly shouts, “I’m hungry are you? I’ll make us food, like junk food, like cookies.” Harry doesn’t argue but he doesn’t seem to ignore the fact that Louis practically hopped ship over the question to avoid it.

Once Louis walks into the kitchen (there’s no easy way to hide in the damned apartment he notices) he realizes how crazy he probably looked. _Good going Tomlinson_.

The kitchen is clean except for the few dirty dishes that are stacking up by the sink. Louis glances back out the small entrance to see Harry looking at him with a hint of curiosity. “You can turn on the lights if you want. Should pick us out a movie they’re over in that cabinet.” He points toward one of the larger display cabinets once Harry flips on a lamp. The cabinet just so happens to be Zayn’s but they share the apartment so Louis assumes they share the movies that Zayn keeps in there too.

Harry goes silent after a moment so Louis assumes he’s looking through the stack of DVDs they keep there. Louis knows how big of a movie enthusiast Zayn is so he’s hoping Harry will take just as long to find something as Zayn does to organize them. It gives him time to figure out he’s going to bake cookies, he really doesn’t want to burn down the apartment building.

Truth is Louis has never quite been a great cook. Sure he’s made a few packets of ramen here and there when Zayn got home too late. Or helped to bake that cake one time for Liam’s birthday (okay that was more of him supervising but he considers it the same thing), baking cookies however turns out to be a much bigger problem because one, Louis doesn’t know how the hell to turn on the oven. And two, Louis doesn’t know where Zayn put the block of cookie dough they bought.

So he goes with the next best thing: making his own dough. Which after the first few minutes turns out to be one of the worst decisions he’s ever had. There’s flour everywhere on the counter and the sugar he thought he had actually turned out to be salt, so there’s too much salt in the dough then there is sugar. He opens a few cabinets looking desperately for the store bought cookie dough he knows they have somewhere, he knows they always have cookie dough or cookies he just can’t find them.

There’s a crash of pans clattering against the tile floor and Louis can hear Harry jumping up. The soft padding of his feet loud as Louis scrambles to throw pans into the sink even if they’re clean. He doesn’t even know why he looked where they keep their cooking ware, then again he doesn’t even know where Zayn puts everything.

“Lou?” Harry asks, his head is poking out from the open doorway and he looks bemused when Louis tries to hide the few remaining fallen pans.

“Everything is fine.” Louis lies. He makes sure to nod yes four times. Harry lingers in the doorway eyeing the floor and then Louis and suddenly Louis feels like everything is hot and he knows he’s blushing. “Fine.” Louis adds on before shuffling to push Harry out back toward the living room.

After Harry is sitting on the floor shuffling through movies once more Louis is back to trying to make cookies. This time however he accidently spills flour all over the counter top making it look like everything is painted in white. He hears Harry moving around but quickly assures him that he’s alright and ‘there’s nothing to worry about.’

Eventually Louis calls it quits to sulk back into the living room where Harry is still slowly sorting through movies. His face twisted into full on concentration and Louis briefly wonders if Harry puts this much effort into everything he does.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t bake.” Louis sighs out of frustration. “Thought it’d be easier then it is.” 

Harry pulls his bottom lip between his top row of teeth, the dimples at the side of his face pop and suddenly Louis feels like he’s the butt of the joke. He can feel the heat rising to his face and honestly why does Harry make him feel so nervous at the same time that he makes him feel relaxed? Why is Louis such a contradiction?

“Do you want me to help you?” Harry finally asks after he’s laughed a little.

Louis pouts his lips out and resorts to crossing his arms, “Well not if you’re gonna laugh at me.”

Harry pulls himself up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground. Louis has a moment of not so subtle staring at Harry’s crotch because, how the hell does Harry, let alone anyone, sit like that in skin-tight jeans? Once Harry is up next to Louis they walk back toward the kitchen, Harry is all wide smiles until he sees the mess Louis made in the kitchen. Suddenly he’s trying to refrain from laughing and Louis is trying to refrain from disappearing into the floorboards.

“Honestly Louis.” Harry laughs, “How the hell did you even manage this?”

“Years of practice, now will you help me or not? Cause I’ll go watch a movie by myself thank you very much.” Louis huffs, by this point he could do with some lying around and watching movies till morning kind of shit. And having Harry with him would be even better.

They make cookies. Well, Harry makes cookies and Louis watches intently. His eyes glued to every small movement Harry makes. There’s no sure way to learn to bake within a few minutes but it turns out to be so much easier than Louis initially thought. When the cookies are in the oven Louis feels like he could take a nice long nap and he figures it’d be really nice if Harry would take that nap with him.

They decide on a movie instead. It’s a romantic comedy (figures, Harry is super sappy apparently) and it’s not long into the movie before Harry is draping himself across Louis. First it’s his arms, Louis notices the way Harry moves closer to Louis with each scene of the movie. Eventually Harry slips his hand into Louis’ and Louis interlocks their fingers together as he leans his head against Harry’s shoulder. He can feel every breath Harry takes, and Louis almost thinks too much into how much he’s breathing, how deeply he’s breathing to the point he’s starting to forget how to breathe.

By the second movie (another romance) they’re cuddled up against the cushions of the couch, Harry has taken the opportunity to be little spoon – apparently he’s the little spoon and Louis doesn’t mind at all – and Louis has his arms wrapped tightly around Harry’s torso. They get halfway into the movie before Harry is sitting upright, pressing his back into Louis’ front. Louis almost yelps involuntarily as Harry smirks at him.

“What the fuck Styles.” 

Harry shrugs before turning to angle himself so he’s right there, eyes dead-set on Louis’ lips. Louis’ attention is suddenly flicking down to Harry’s as Harry talks about how much he’s wanted to kiss Louis since they met. They’re so close, inches apart and then Louis is kissing Harry. It almost comes naturally, like they’ve been doing this for as long as Louis has known how to breathe. Their lips moving together, Harry cupping Louis’ face in his hands. They stay like this for a while, just kissing while the movie continues to play to fill up the empty space of sound around them.

When they pull apart Louis has to refrain from kissing Harry right away. Harry’s pupils are dilated, the ring around his eye a beautiful light green as if he’s staring into the sun. His lips are parted like he’s trying to catch his breath as a smile curves onto his face. “You’re beautiful.” Harry tells him.

Louis can’t help but to stare at him stupidly. They settle back down to continue the movie, neither one of them concentrating at all at first. Harry wrapped up in Louis’ arms, and Louis content on where he is. It feels like they could stay wrapped up together, like they could do this every night especially when it’s cold out. Louis always hates the cold, but Harry is so warm against him he can’t help but to smile at himself as he buries his face into the crook of Harry’s neck.

When the movie is coming to a close – the love-interest dying off – Harry is in tears and Louis feels like it’s a punch to the gut because Harry shouldn’t cry. He’s too pretty to cry even at something as simple as a movie. The tears don’t stop even when the movie does, Louis quickly becoming concerned.

“Harry?” He asks. It’s cautious but he doesn’t want Harry to feel embarrassed or anything, especially since Louis himself hates to be caught crying at a movie. “Are you okay?”

There’s a short moment of Louis just looking at Harry, his face tracked with tears, before he’s pulled back into reality when Harry mumbles those four words.

“I’m leaving to London.”

Louis can feel the twitch of his lip, his heart racing and his palms sweaty. He doesn’t press Harry, he figures he heard wrong, that all the time spent so close to Harry has him missing something Harry said. He stares at Harry, and when Harry looks up Louis just about breaks down himself. 

“I’m leaving to London in a few days Louis.”

And that’s all it takes before everything in Louis is hot, burning at the edges, searing him into nothing more than ashes. There’s cotton in his mouth as he stares at Harry. Harry doesn’t even want to look back at him, he keeps his eyes set on the empty rolling of white text on black background. 

“What do you mean?” And it comes out more choked then Louis intended, like the words are stuck there at the back of his throat. “How long?”

It takes a moment of Harry sniffling before he’s pulling himself to sit at the opposite side of the couch. “Niall called.” He takes a deep breath, a moment of pause where Louis feels like it takes too long. “Niall called and I was accepted Louis.” He smiles at this, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Accepted? What are you talking about?”

“Remember that studying abroad program I told you about?” Harry asks. “Well Niall called and told me that I was chosen to go.” This time he shifts a little closer to Louis. “I leave in a few days and I’ll be gone for half a semester.”

Louis doesn’t say anything at first. There’s a multitude of emotions passing through him all at once, but the biggest one is the fact that he’s proud of Harry. That he’s happy Harry gets to do something he’s really wanted to and he’s finally getting the chance.

“Congrats then.” Louis smiles what he hopes to be convincing enough.

“Louis I—”

“No Harry really I’m happy for you.” Louis assures him, making sure to smile even wider, to use whatever useless acting skills he remembers from drama a few years back. “Now come on then. Another movie or?” He asks.

Harry doesn’t answer at first. He just looks at Louis with that same intense look he has, his deep concentration shown through the crinkles of his forehead. “You’re okay then?” He asks cautiously, the way he looks at Louis makes Louis want to punch him.

“I’m fine. Now can we watch a movie or something?” Louis snaps.

Louis can see the way Harry tenses at this, just in the little way he straightens his posture and the way his jaw becomes more defined. “Louis you can’t just do this because you’re upset.” Harry challenges. His voice low and gravely and Louis thinks if he wasn’t so mad he’d be turned on by this.

“Yeah well.” Louis answers. He’s trying not to look Harry in the eye, can feel the tension building in the way they’re simply sitting. “Can we get back to watching a movie or something?”

Within a quick moment of Louis breathing in and exhaling, between a moment of the tiny crease on Harry’s forehead appearing, Harry clenches his teeth together in quick succession. Louis can see the way his jawline moves as he does it. “What you don’t think I’m upset by this?” Harry raises his voice. It’s all completely different than his normal demeanor that it catches Louis off guard. “I like you Louis,” he pauses, “a lot. And I don’t want you to act like nothing is wrong when clearly it is. Now if you wanna go on pretending that’s fine but I’m leaving and I fucking like you a lot and.” He drops the sentence without so much as anything else as he sighs.

“It’s funny.” Louis says when clearly Harry isn’t going to finish. “How quickly I like, fell for you.” He mumbles. It’s different, being the one to admit his emotions, it always feels to foreign and scary to him.

They’re quiet for a while. Neither of them daring to make a move and fuck, Louis wants to curl up and ignore the world. He hopes it would just stop turning because at least then he’d get a moment to think. It’s not long before Harry is moving in close to Louis, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy. It’s only then does Louis start to cry, feels the ache that starts in his gut and moves to his chest. He doesn’t mean to, tries to keep up the façade only to have it crumble in front of him – in front of Harry.

They don’t say much for the few minutes that pass. They just stay like that, wrapped up in each other. Louis bringing his head to rest against Harry’s chest. It’s all so new to Louis, the inevitable threat of heartbreak, like he was expecting it without realizing it could happen. He’s only known Harry for less than a day, yet it feels so different to Louis. Like they’ve been with each other for a lifetime and suddenly that lifetime is ending. He figures if they only have a few days he might as well stop sulking.

“I’m twenty-three today.” Louis says once he’s sure Harry has calmed down, or more so once he’s sure he himself has calmed down. “And the reason I’m a street musician is because I’ve always wanted to sing and my dad is a complete ass who won’t let me.” When he exhales it’s all a bit shaky, his voice trembling a little, and he wonders why he tells Harry. It’s not like he has anything to lose he realizes.

Harry shifts his weight a little against Louis indicating he heard him. “You’re alright okay?” Harry whispers, his lips brushing against Louis’ lightly. “I’m glad you’re doing something you love.” He finishes.

After Louis calms down from all his emotions they settle back into silence. It’s different however, a feeling like they’re encased in glass. Like if Louis says something too loud everything will shatter around them. So he stays quiet for the most part, occasionally pulling Harry further into him, or wrapping his arms tighter around his torso – little things to reassure him that Harry is here, and Harry isn’t going to disappear when he blinks.

The hour ticks by, Louis’ phone ringing a few times. It’s Zayn – but when is it not? He answers after the fourth call telling Zayn that everything is okay, that he’s okay, and no Harry isn’t a serial killer. Once he’s reassured Zayn, and Harry has snuggled back up to him. He figures they should do something. That, since Harry is only here for a few more days he should spend the time with Harry in hopes of making it last as long as possible. He knows there’s no sure way to stop time, and this is the second best thing.

“Harry.” He nudges the boy next to him, Harry in turn groans making Louis’ entire body feel like it’s engulfed in flames.

“What Lou?”

“How does ice skating sound?” 

There’s no movement from Harry for a few minutes, just the sound of his breathing and Louis’ heart beating in his chest. Harry sits up, his green eyes wide for a split second. “Dunno how to skate, m’too clumsy.” He admits bashfully.

Louis honestly can’t understand how incredibly endearing Harry is. “I’ll teach you.” He decides before pressing a kiss to the tip of Harry’s nose. “Now come on it’s getting late.”

Louis grabs his coat off the hanger and waits for Harry to tie his shoes. The atmosphere feels different in a way, like Louis left the flat a different person before he met Harry. He assumes it’s the hour of the night, or practically next day, he figures. He doesn’t let it get to him much as he takes Harry’s hand in his with a smile.

“Thanks.” Harry says once they’re out the building and into the freshly fallen snow.

Louis stops a moment, making sure to turn so he can face Harry, a confused lit to his face. “For what?”

Harry smirks just the tiniest bit, a quick quirk to his lips, “for being my tour guide.”

Louis just about groans. “Oh for god sakes Harry.”

 

-

 

Snow falls softly and it’s different with each step they take. Every small movement and exchange of quick uneasy glances as they walk down to the ice rink. There’s a moment where Louis seriously considers walking out of Harry’s life once the night has ended, to walk away and never look back. But he knows that’s not an option for him, because somehow between all the conversations and endless walking, he found a way to fall in love with Harry Styles.

“It’s your birthday then?” Harry asks. His breath comes out in small puffs with every exhale. Louis can practically see the words suspended there in midair, encased in the frosty evening sky.

Louis makes sure to keep his attention on where Harry is, the way he’s walking ahead of him by a few steps. His hand buried inside the pockets of his jacket, the other hand loosely held onto Louis’. The lights of the streetlamps burning their shadows onto the sides of buildings, dusting it against the wintry ground. Louis doesn’t respond other than a quick glance in Harry’s direction. Harry seems to understand because he doesn’t say anything else. 

Louis thinks about the way Harry had broken in front of him. The way Louis had broken as well. It’s toxic, Louis can feel it seeping into the cracks between them, the way Harry looked at him; bright green eyes dulled down to a grey. He doesn’t want to talk about it however because he knows Harry will be leaving soon. That their short span of knowing each other will come to an end in a few days. He doesn’t let the thoughts linger too long as he glides his thumb down the side of Harry’s hand, just feeling. Soaking Harry in and memorizing every indent and long slope of his figure.

He knows it won’t last forever, nothing does. And for once, the silence is almost more deafening than the constant noise of New York City.

 

-

 

The ice rink is practically empty, the remaining skaters standing at the edges of the pond with their jackets pulled all the way up to their noses. They have to rent skates, and it’s not too bad except for the fact it’s so late. The air is frozen over with their breath, and Louis can feel the cold burning his fingers. He doesn’t let go of Harry, no matter what. 

Louis leads Harry onto the ice gently, making sure to hold onto Harry’s waist as he guides him out toward the middle. The night is bitter cold, nipping at their exposed skin as Louis wraps his scarf further around himself to keep out whatever chilled air happens to seep in. The stars are dull against the exposed skyline, which is more than Louis can see on most nights. New York’s lights washing them out into fading heartbeats, simple pinpricks of the sky. He can’t help but to feel like Harry is brighter than the stars, even when the stars themselves are shining Harry somehow encompasses them – burns them down to a dull flickering dying light. Somehow he’s brighter than it all, even New York and all the neon lights and constant noise, of the empty static of idle streets and brash colors of billboard signs. Louis can’t help but to stare at him as they move against each other, so close Louis can feel the curve of Harry’s spine and indent where his hips end and his torso begins. His fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of his clothes, taking in whatever Harry is giving.

There’s a faint glimmer of the lamp light against the frozen ice, multiple artificial colors: reds, bright light blues, and greens. Louis can’t help but to watch as they slowly skate across each painted light spot beneath them, Harry’s expression in a hard line because he’s still too afraid to let Louis go. Louis keeps his firm grip on Harry’s waist with one hand and holds Harry’s hand in the other. Their gloved fingers interlocking, holding on tight as they round a corner slowly.

It feels like it’s only them in the world, like Louis could stay right here with Harry and the world would keep spinning but their lives would extend onward until the last star dies out, and even then they’d keep going; infinitely expanding into forever. There’s this moment where Louis just breathes, really breathes in the cold air around them as it stings the back of his throat. Leaves him exposed to the bitter chill that lingers around after heavy snowfall.

He watches as Harry catches his footing, tries his best to remain upright when everything feels so unbalanced. His smile never once leaves his face, Louis is sure of that.

“Promise you won’t let me fall.” Harry breathes out. There’s only little space between the two of them, Louis enjoys it more than he probably should considering, but he doesn’t do much else to stop them, to put more space between them, or to let Harry glide against the frozen pond away on his own. Louis knows they only have a few more days before Harry leaves on his flight to London. It’s all so sudden and Louis knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that love is something he’s only watched through the lens of a camera or in the emotion of someone else’s expressions. 

Louis can feel it vaguely though, the uncertainty of it all. He ignores it, instead bringing both of them to a stop on the ice. Harry looks frantic for a moment as he regains his footing only to lose it again. Louis laughs a little when Harry suddenly collides with him, causing both boys to fall into the snow at the edge of the rink. There’s a clutter of powdered snow drifting down from where they’ve landed. They don’t move, and it feels nice to have Harry with him. Both of them looking at each other with wide grins and rosy-red cheeks exposed to the cold December night.

They stay like that a while, Louis lying flat against the ground, Harry’s chest flush against his side and their bodies warm in contrast with the snow. They’re bundled up and Louis can’t help but to look up toward the sky, endlessly flowing into the dark. It’s all uncertainty he thinks, everything he’s ever come across. But if there’s one thing he’s certain of, it’s that he’ll see Harry again. Even when they’re halfway across the ocean, Harry with his life set on one path and Louis’ on another, one thing’s for certain – Louis will remember Harry because Harry is more than a memory. More than the few hours they’ve spent together wandering the streets of New York, even when they had no set direction. Harry’s beautiful next to him, lips slightly parted like he’s waiting to speak after a hushed moment.

Louis can’t help but to trace the outline of Harry’s face, the way his eyelashes fan outwards, the way he keeps focus on the night sky above them. The iridescence of his eyes, the ever constant emotion in them – how open Harry is, like Louis’ favorite book. Like no matter how much he sees Harry, he won’t get tired of him. Because Harry is a painting, Louis is sure of that, like many of the countless sculpted figures he’s seen at art museums Zayn has dragged him to. Harry is beautiful.

Louis lays on his side to face Harry straight on, their lips inches away, and every breath they take like wisps of smoke off a newly lit cigarette. He watches the way Harry’s eyes outline the edges of his lips, the way that he smiles and how his dimples protrude, eyelids fluttering with every snowflake that brushes the tips of his eyelashes. Louis kisses Harry with the only thing he is certain about. He kisses Harry with the one thing he can keep, memorizing the way Harry tastes against his lips, the way he brushes his hands against the side of his waist. Dragging his attention to everything that is Harry.

When they break apart Louis can’t help but to smile full, his heart slowing when Harry closes his eyes to the sound of the city around them. He listens too, and when he opens his eyes and looks at him, all clouded greyish-green irises, long drawled out syllables, and stupidly pretty face – he knows that he'd spend an eternity waiting for him. Even if it means spending that eternity alone. But for now he can wait with Harry beneath the stars and offer him the only certainty he has, that he won’t let Harry fall.

There’s a silence that spans what feels like months at a time. Louis doesn’t move and neither does Harry as they lay in the snow, hands interlocked basking under the star-lit night. “I promise.” He answers. 

And when Harry kisses him again, he’s certain.


End file.
